Greetings!

It is Monday, March 9, 2026, and with a sense of awe, I acknowledge that this is my first post for the year. My hope is that, with the Lord’s guidance, this will be the beginning of many more consistent reflections in the months ahead.

Outside, a gentle rain falls steadily as I settle down after preparing my dinner of corned beef and cabbage with mashed potatoes. The weather and the quiet moment prompt a different mood, encouraging me to reflect on my recent experiences. Retirement has brought unexpected busyness; while I am no longer tied to a nine-to-five routine, time feels no more abundant. The many tasks and obligations—what Richard Foster in Celebration of Discipline refers to as “muchness and manyness”—can easily overwhelm, making it difficult at day’s end to feel any real sense of accomplishment. Most days are spent helping others, shuttling from one place to another, with only a small portion of these tasks directly related to my own needs.

To be clear, I do not resent being available to help others, nor do I wish for days spent solely on myself. What I am working through is the realization that, in retirement, using time intentionally is crucial. Planning and navigating the hours becomes essential to ensure not only that I support others, but also that I look after my own well-being. Occasionally, I catch myself grumbling about the common assumption that retired people have endless free time to do whatever anyone asks. Even if that were true, the responsibility still lies with me to organize my days. To minimise, and eventually cast aside feeling overwhelmed and resentful (yes, sometimes I do), I am learning the importance of choosing my commitments carefully. Saying “no” is not a negative word—it is a means of giving myself the freedom to select tasks that allow me to end each day with gratitude, not frustration.

Some time ago, I purchased Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, The Practice of Saying No. Recently, I found myself rereading it, and two points in particular resonated deeply. First, Taylor notes: “Yes is one of those words capable of changing a life through the utterance of a single syllable.” She explains that saying “yes” opens doors—to relationships and opportunities—but can also draw us into a culture that values doing many things, equating busyness with success. In such an environment, it becomes difficult to say “no” without feeling abnormal. As a result, “yes” and “busy” are often linked, and if not carefully managed, they can become the measures of our worth.

The second point that struck me was Taylor’s reference to Sabbath as a way of saying “no” to the endless cycle of activity and expectations. Without boundaries, we risk becoming human doings instead of human beings. This idea truly resonates, as I have been striving to honour the Sabbath from Friday evening to Saturday evening—intentionally pausing to rest, gain perspective, and allow my body and mind to recover from the week’s demands. This time of rest prepares me to fully celebrate the Lord’s Day and engage in worship with the community of faith.

As I write, I realize this reflection has grown longer than planned, and perhaps I have not fully captured all that is in my heart. Nevertheless, embracing the practice of saying “no” and ordering my time is a work in progress. For now, I will pause, and encourage you to consider how, by saying “no,” we make space for Sabbath—the rest our bodies, minds, and souls require. How in doing so, we allow God the opportunity to work in and through us, bringing Him glory, even if it does not always make us popular.

Until next time, and hopefully soon😊 stay safe and well, as you remain in God’s grip.

Grace+